


advice (from a trusted source)

by trashfaves



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is a Little Shit, Drabble, Ficlet, Gen, Insecure Lucifer, Lucifer Redemption, and it's kinda implied, brotherly teasing, dean winchester is an annoying big brother, he's not a total dick, is there a difference?, lucifer trying, please tell me i don't know anything, seriously dean he does not look like pennywise hjdskdmckemc, uhh kinda, whatever idk how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 00:41:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14367210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashfaves/pseuds/trashfaves
Summary: Lucifer needs some advice on how to be good. He asks someone with the answer.





	advice (from a trusted source)

Sam wasn’t sure quite where he’d gone wrong in life.

Sure, he’d never been a saint, but then again, who really was?  
Either way, he wasn’t sure he deserved this. Just… _all_ of this. Mom. Jack. Almost dying once a week. It really wasn’t fair. 

Sam took a deep breath and sighed, waiting for Dean to come back from the store. He’d left an hour ago, so he wouldn’t be back in at least another. Sam had told him he was going to take a nap, as if that was possible. He rolled over onto his stomach, pressing his face into the pillow and waiting for something. He wasn’t sure what he _was_ waiting for, but anything would be good right now. An ominous knock at the door, a horrified scream, the growl of a wolf. He checked the clock, having no idea what time it actually was and found that it was three in the morning. Just peachy.

He’d almost fallen asleep when a sudden voice made him jump up from the bed and grab the gun under the pillow.

“Whatcha doin’ there?” the voice asked. He couldn’t see anything except the dark silhouette of a man. The shadows twisted around him, making it hard to see his face.

“Who-” he started, before realising he recognised the voice. “Lucifer.”  
The figure moved into his field of view and he could see him clearly now. He looked… weird. A bit like Neo and a bit like an overdramatic FBI agent.

“Hiya, Sam!” he exclaimed. “Uhh, how are you today? You look a little tire-” 

“What are you doing here?” Sam interrupted. “And how did you get in?”

Lucifer looked at him.

“Did you not hear? Obviously not, why would you have…” Sam felt as if he’d stopped talking to him and started talking to himself at that last bit. “I should get some marketing done… Maybe a TV show? A crime-fighting Lucifer... ” He mumbled while pacing around the room. Sam kept his gun and eyes pointing at him, even though he knew it might not have an effect.

“Shut up, just _please_ tell me what the hell you’re doing here!” Sam was almost but not quite shouting at him. He knew he was at a disadvantage here, but didn’t want to show it.  
Lucifer stopped pacing. “Oh right,” he looked at Sam again.

“Just stopping by, ya know?” He smiled. Sam was unconvinced “Visiting old friends… How have you been anyway? Good? Bad? Somewhere in betw-” Sam interrupted him again. 

“No you’re not. You want something.” Lucifer looked away and stared at the wall. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you. You can put the gun down.”

“I’d rather not, I-” This time it was Lucifer’s turn to interrupt.

“C’mon Sam. You know it won’t hurt me.” He said, quietly, still looking away. Sam hadn’t actually been sure if it would hurt him, but something in the way Lucifer said that made him put the gun away anyway. He seemed sad, or embarrassed. Or something else. There was an emotion Sam didn’t recognise on his face. Regret? 

“What do you want?” Sam repeated. Lucifer looked down and thought for a moment.

“I need advice, I think.” he mumbled. Sam wasn’t sure he could trust his ears for a moment, but instead of staring at Lucifer for five minutes straight he pulled himself together and asked him “...What?” Lucifer looked up, but still not at him.

“I need advice.” Sam was staring. “About what? And also, why me?” Lucifer turned and stared back. “You’re good. You know what to do.” He seemed to be convincing himself more than talking to Sam. “About what?” Sam repeated. Lucifer kept staring, while Sam looked away, almost embarrassed.

“Just… things, ya know?” Lucifer seemed uncomfortable. “I just… in theory,” He looked at Sam. “If you were, well, _God_ , what would you do?” Sam was stunned. “Excuse me?”  
Lucifer looked down and started playing with his tie. “If daddy dearest gave you the job or something… What would you do?” 

Sam thought for a second.  
_‘Should I… talk to him? Does he actually want my help? He’s literally tried to take my body, rule the world, and kill us.’ Lucifer was just standing there, unmoving. ‘But maybe he’s not after anything?_

“I don’t really know. I haven’t thought about it, I guess,” he started. “I’d do what I thought was right, I’d help people, I guess.” Lucifer seemed to closely listen to every word, so he continued. “But it really depends. What does the world need right now? What would be good? Could I accomplish that without doing more harm than good?” Lucifer just stood there, and Sam was surprised he hadn’t yet interrupted him.

“Maybe I couldn’t change the world entirely, but I’d try to make the world a better place for everyone. End discrimination, put certain people in prison… But I could never let my personal judgment affect anything. That’d be wrong.” Sam almost jumped when he was interrupted from his thoughts by Lucifer suddenly turning around.

“Thank you, Sam.” He said, quietly. “You’ve been a great help.” Sam was alarmed.

“Wait, why did you come here? You never answered why you wanted to talk.” he said, taking a step closer. “It doesn’t matter.” Lucifer said, back turned. “Thank you. You helped.” 

And then he was gone.

After a minute of wildly theorising whether Lucifer would or wouldn’t come back he flopped down onto the bed. He was roused from his almost-but-not-quite-sleep by a noise from the hallway outside his door. He got up to check on it and opened the door the moment Dean was about to knock.

“Hey, what’re you doing up? Weren’t you supposed to sleep?” he asked, single eyebrow having skyrocketed up and almost stumbling into the room after having the door open so unexpectedly escape his fist. “Whatever, if you don’t wanna sleep we could watch some TV.” he said. Sam thought for a while. 

“No, uh, I think I’m actually gonna sleep now.” The eyebrow was still up and about. 

“Really? It’s morning now.” Sam looked at the clock. It was almost five now. 

“Well, whatever. I deserve to sleep in once in a while.” he muttered. 

”Sure, get your beauty sleep, sleeping beauty.” Dean teased. “You need it. You look like a walking corpse. Or that Pennywise guy. Or Edward Scissorhands.” He got a snort at that one. "You look like a sick Snow White. Like The Joker. Hannibal Le-"

“Night, Dean.”


End file.
